[Tuesday, 21 December, 2258 | A Christmas Birthday]
Nine years ago today, Virginia was born. Rather than excitement over the day, she spent most of those birthdays resenting its proximity to Christmas, as well as blaming herself for killing her mother during childbirth. But this year is different. This year, Virginia just wants to be at home with her father, opening her presents and gorging herself on birthday cake.
The foghorn woke Virginia up at 3:00am, so Ms. Nagal certainly didn’t offer the girl a sleep-in for her birthday. But as the hours went, Virginia didn’t hear from Ms. Nagal, not even once. It is the twelfth hour after her wake-up, and Virginia has lost count of the times she had Nanny sing her “Happy Birthday.” Nanny’s rendition of the perennial birthday favourite is interrupted by the screeching of her door.
She turns to look at Ms. Nagal, to discover that it isn’t Ms. Nagal at all, but a soldier, dressed head-to-toe in black.
“Was it you? The one who shot Del?”
No answer. Instead, the soldier simply wheels Virginia’s chair out of the cell and into the corridor.
“Where are you taking me?”
Again, no answer. The soldier keeps wheeling Virginia’s chair down the corridor. Then up the stairs. Then down another corridor.
Finally, the soldier wheels Virginia to Ms. Nagal’s office. The girl reads the sign on the door, hoping to learn her keeper’s first name, but is disappointed to learn the plaque only reads “Ms. Nagal.” The soldier escorts Virginia into the office, bows to pay his respects to Ms. Nagal—this gesture is not returned—and leaves.
“Happy birthday, sweetheart!”
A holographic projection of Mr. Northbridge is standing in Ms. Nagal’s office. It is so realistic that all Virginia wants to do is to escape her restraints and give her father a hug.
“Thanks, Dad,” the girl says.
“How are they treating you, kiddo? Are you learning lots about how the world operates?” her father asks.
“No, they’re treating me like shit,” Virginia answers bluntly. Her hand vibrates with an electric shock and Ms. Nagal smiles. Yet another infraction. “I’ve barely eaten until I was force fed two weeks’ worth of nutrition bars yesterday. My eyes were forced open for a whole night and day while I was forced to watch video footage about how bad the world is. I’m barely allowed out of this chair. I made a friend on Sunday—”
“That’s wonderful, dear!”
“—and he got shot for being nice to me.”
“I believe what your daughter is trying to tell you, Mr. Northbridge,” Ms. Nagal interrupts, “Is that she is an insolent little brat. She has no manners, she has no interest in redeeming her wicked ways, and she needs to accept that she belongs here. For her own good, for the good of the city, and broadly, the good of the world.”
“I want to go home!” Virginia tells her father.
“I know, sweetie. But you need to listen to Ms. Nagal and do whatever she tells you, okay? This is not a punishment, it’s just a little program to get you onto the right path, so we can make sure the law doesn’t punish you,” Mr. Northbridge says. “I’m just sorry that you’re not home for your birthday, and you won’t be home for Christmas.”
“Is Santa still coming?” Virginia asks.
Her father looks around awkwardly, unsure of how to answer his daughter’s question. “Look, sweetheart, he’s going to do his best. But I don’t know…I don’t know if he can deliver questions to the re-education camp.”
“He can’t and he won’t,” Ms. Nagal answers. “This call has gone on long enough,” she says, disconnecting the call. Virginia watches as the image of her father disappears.
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